Dexidoodles Stories from the Fallout
by Dexiedoodle
Summary: A collection of oneshots unrelated to anything whatsoever & covering Fallouts 3, NV & 4. Just stuff rattling in my head really. Some of the stories will be Adults only & I always, though intermittently, use bad words. Will not be updating regularly, this is just to fill in time & empty out my head. SS, LW and Courier will change to suit whatever I write, if they feature at all.
1. Chapter 1

**1\. The Thief**

 **OC x Elder Maxson – *Spoiler*intimate relations may be ahead. Not too descriptive but you need to offer warnings these days. If it ain't your bag, then this might not be your type of story. I'm terrible at writing smut… I guess I should warn you about that too…**

Ally twisted in the grasp of the two knights holding firmly to each of her arms. Her jaw was clenched tight and her face petulant as they dragged her unwilling and flailing body across the deck of the enormous airship that was moored over the old Boston Airport. It was a hopeless case of course, there was no way she was getting loose from the two towering soldiers encased in Power Armour, but she wanted to show them that she wasn't going down without a fight.

Ally Beckett operated by a strict set of rules laid out by years of floundering around in the Commonwealth all on her own. If she could lift it, it was hers. If she could pick the lock, it was hers. If she killed the guy who owned it, it was hers. They were simple rules, easy to follow if you were a thief.

She was a thief.

Not a raider though. Definitely not a raider, just a thief.

Which bought her to this little predicament. It seemed that it was not the brightest plan in the world to liberate stuff from the Brotherhood of Steel.

It's not like she took that much, and it's not like they would miss it. Look at this set up. These guys were rolling in loot. What was a couple of fusion cores to these guys? It's not like they'd miss a little food or some caps… she was just one person after all and not a very big one at that. Ok so maybe trying to take the Laser Rifle was not a good idea, but it looked really cool and she had no clue that the crate that the rifle was in was alarmed. Poor recon on her part.

The soldiers had poured into the room when the alarm had sounded with shrill effect. They had all pointed their guns at her. Total overreaction. Even the guy with the Gatling Laser had pointed it at her… the hell? Was he seriously going to unleash that bad boy in the confined space of the storage bay? Seriously?

Whatever… they had grabbed hold of her and bought her up here. Why? She had no idea but it had been cool to fly in the machine that had bought her up here.

Ally did wonder briefly if this was it. She wondered if the purpose in bring her up here was to throw her off as some kind of grand execution to show other potential thieves what happened to her kind if they dared cross the Brotherhood. Or maybe this was their courtroom and she was going to have a trial inflicted on her... yawn… Or maybe this was their floating prison?

Whatever it was... she wasn't going down without a fight.

The metal walkway of the deck shuddered with the steps of her captors. They dragged her up a set of stairs and manhandled her through the doorway at the top to be greeted by a stern faced man, standing tall and rigid on the other side of it.

"Is this our thief?" He asked Allys captors, his dark eyes raking over her face. He was unimpressed by what he saw.

"Yes, Sir." The guy on her left side barked.

Ally glowered up at the man before her. He was very clean, his dark skin free of any kind of dirt. His uniform was pressed, spick and span. A complete contrast to her own appearance… her skin smeared with filth, clothing tattered and her hair plastered to her head by sweat and clumped at the ends by mud, grease and probably few things she didn't want to think about. But hey, her teeth were good. She kept good care of her teeth, can't chew jerky with no teeth, she reasoned.

"Nice hat." She snarked self consciously, eyeing the symbol emblazoned on the offending item. The same symbol had been appearing everywhere in her province.

The man ignored her comment and addressed the knights on either side of her. "Take it through to the Command Deck, the Elder wants to see it."

'IT'? Who the fuck was he calling 'it'? She made a sound of discontent deep in her throat that was cut off by the two knights lifting her off the floor and carrying her deeper into the ship, her feet dangling uselessly above the deck.

She blinked as they bought her through a doorway and a space opened up before her, a large room with a wall of glass windows looking out at the Commonwealth. The sun shone brightly though the windows, flooding the room with light, so much so it hurt her eyes. She didn't look around the room though as she blinked it into clarity, she was focused instead on the back of the tall man who stood before those massive windows. Was this the Elder?

It was just his back, but it was intimidating. He was definitely big. Ally wasn't good with numbers and such but she knew she was five foot, four inches tall. This guys was bigger than that… much. Not only tall but his shoulders were huge.

He stood up ramrod straight, like there was a steel pillar in his spine. His feet were planted shoulder width apart, like there were heavy weights holding his legs down and his gloved hands were clasped together in the small of his back, like they were bound there. He was wearing a heavy looking leather coat that Ally would bet all of her caps was armoured, it had a woollen collar that stood stiffy about his neck. His hair was ink black and immaculate. The sides shaved close and the top slicked tidily back, not a single strand out of place. The guy reeked of power. Ally gulped. She might actually be in trouble.

The knights stopped a few feet from the man, keeping a firm grip in their prisoner. They didn't say anything, they just stood up straight and waited to be acknowledged. The tall guy, the Elder she supposed, didn't turn right away, but spoke in a voice that was deep and compelling.

"I am interested to learn how you entered our compound undetected." He said softly but with an air of undeniable authority.

"I wasn't undetected." She grated, trying to sound badass. "otherwise I wouldn't be here, would I?"

The guy pivoted at his waist, turning his head and fixing her with a piercing glare. Ally inwardly flinched back from him, from those eyes.

Holy Shit! Those eyes.

They were sapphire blue, but not just blue, it was like they were laced with silver light and they bored right through her, looking right into her head. Piercing wasn't the right word. She wasn't great with words and such but she was sure there was no word to encapsulate what those eyes were doing. Penetrating? Ew gross. Whatever… they were intense and framed by thick black brows, sun darkened skin, scars and a glower that burned into her.

The guy completed his turn towards her and now towered in front of her. She wanted to step back but the guards held her inflexibly to the spot.

"How. Did. You. Enter. Our. Compound." The Elder asserted, his voice hard.

Ally stared back at him quailing a little on the inside. As she stared, something occurred to her… How old was this guy?

Her own eyes began to roam over his face. Yes, half of his face was covered by a thick but manicured beard the same shade as the rest of his hair and he was covered with scars, the most prominent of which marred the length of his left cheek deeply. He had deep frown lines in between his eyes which were circled darkly with the fatigue of leadership in hard times, but he couldn't have been any older than her. This guy was an 'Elder'? She snorted inwardly. He was a kid.

"I just walked in." She breezed, the stress of her situation draining out of her. She wasn't afraid of some punk kid, not matter how big an army he had at his back. She wouldn't be surprised if most of his orders consisted of beer runs and hazing the smaller kids. Sure, he was big and he had super intense eyes and he was hot as all fuck (yeah, she could admit that freely, he was smoking), but he still was just a kid.

He took a step towards her and she guessed that to someone else it would be menacing. He really did tower over her now, she had to crane her neck to look up at him.

"Just walked in?" He questioned her, his voice low, his eyes boring through her grimy skin. "Where? Where was your entry point?"

"If I tell you, will you let me go?" She asked, her eyes narrowing. "And I don't mean hang me over the side and let me go. I mean you take me to ground and let me walk away"

"I could make you talk." He grated impatiently.

"Nah, you could make me _lie_..." She threw back. "You could make me say what you _might_ wanna hear... but you wouldn't get the truth from me and even if you did, you wouldn't know it."

The corner of his mouth twitched as his jaw tightened.

"This ain't my first rodeo, _Elder_." She sneered up at the big guy.

He stepped back from her and looked at each of her guards in turn. "Take it to Cambridge Police Station and hand it over to Knight Rhys." He ordered sharply. "I want to know how it entered this compound by morning muster."

Her captors stomped their feet to attention, acknowledging their orders and jarring Allys body with the tremor. The knights began to carry her out of the room but paused when the Elders voice carried to them again.

"Put the hose on it first." He ordered with contempt dripping from his robust voice. "I don't want our cells to catch lice or whatever else it might be infected with."

Again with the 'it'? She was pretty offended by that. Ally wanted to scream in indignation, but she was carted away before she could formulate a scathing enough response.

The Elder turned back to his contemplation of the Commonwealth, dismissing the dirty waif from his mind.

* * *

Ally Beckett did not like cages.

She left her cage as soon as she was able, which was quite smartly as locks were a very little barrier to the resourceful girl. She tripped the lock on her cell door and snuck quietly from the police station and back out into the wastes. She was very good at sneaking.

She started her careful trek back towards her hideout. Empty handed. She had walked all the way to Boston Airport for nothing, she'd even lost her pack and personal belongings. She groused about it under her breath as she skulked through the shadows of downtown. She climbed up a fire escape as the sun began to set and found a secure position on the roof of a low office building to spend the night. It was never a good idea to travel through the burnt out cityscape at night. You could never see what was right behind you.

She settled in the shadow of a water tank on the quiet rooftop and looked back towards the Brotherhood airship. She glared at it, firing imaginary daggers at it. The Brotherhood of Steel didn't belong in the Commonwealth anyway... why were they even here? She chewed on her bottom lip in dark thought and sent all of her malice towards the stupid, lumbering boat with her eyes.

A lock of sandy hair fell over her brow and she blew it back noisily. The bastards had washed her… like you would wash a dog who had rolled in something awful and smelly. Two unenthusiastic looking women had stripped her naked and put a hose on her. They had sprayed of the worst of the scum that coated her body with water so cold it made her numb and pressure so high that stabbed at her skin like needles while she cowered against a wall in an enclosed garage. Then they had taken to her with bucket of hot water that scalded as it touched her, brushes that rubbed her raw and soap that dried her out like a bit of Brahmin jerky in the sun… and then… AND THEN… they took her clothes. _Stole_ them. The only thing she got back were her boots. She supposed it was because they were only things they didn't have in her size. She had little feet and it was very lucky that she did, it facilitated her escape.

She had dressed sullenly in the threadbare jeans and button up shirt that they callously threw at her when they had finished with their soap and water torture and then they had flung her in a cell with plate of corn and razor grain gruel.

She had eaten their stupid food and grudgingly admitted to herself that it was good. Then she took the bobby pin and flathead screwdriver head that she kept in the sole of her boots for emergencies and had scarpered.

She sat on the roof and stewed. She wanted her pack. It had stuff in it that she needed. She ground her teeth. She bet that the _Elder_ had her pack and was going through her stuff right now, the prick.

Well, she'd see about that. She stood up quickly and kept her eyes glued on airship in the distance.

* * *

Elder Arthur Maxson spent his evening on the bridge with Lancer Captain Kells going over inconsistent reports from their many patrols out in the Commonwealth. He had a dull ache behind his left eye as he scanned the paperwork. Those damned minutemen would be the death of him and their General was the worst of them. The man was going out of his way to make the Brotherhoods job as difficult a possible. Maxson had to admit that the man was formidable and with the shamed former Paladin Danse in his ranks, he was even more diabolical.

Maxson wondered briefly if the waif that had been dragged before him that morning had anything to do with the minutemen… If General Nate Foster had sent her in to test their defences. But he dismissed the idea immediately. The little creature was simply too pathetic, he doubted even Nate would sink that low. But it was still worrying that she had managed to somehow slink into the heavily defended compound, even more worrying that she had made it all the way into the storage bay. Worse, she had managed to get her hands on one of their weapons. If the crates alarm had not been tripped, if she had known about it or known how to disable it, then this whole episode could have been a total disaster, security wise.

Maxson brooded over it, the frown that creased the ridge between his thick brows deepened and the ache behind his eye began to pulsate.

It was quite late by the time he decided it was time to turn in for the night. He had to keep reminding himself that he needed to sleep. Cade had said the same thing at his last physical, but Maxson put that down to the medical officers need to father everyone on board. Maxson knew he was functioning a less than peak efficiently at the moment and had to concede that he may need an _impossible to take_ break. Maybe he should find someone to spar with tomorrow, work out some of the tension in his shoulders?

He finally excused himself from the bridge and accepted the sharp salute from Kells with a nod as he departed, he trudged up the stairs to the command deck and climbed the ladder to the main deck above. He entered his berth and clicked the door closed behind him with a sigh. He leaned back against the door for a minute with his eyes closed and let his shoulders slump from their normally rigid posture.

"Where's my pack?"

Maxsons eyes snapped open and fixed on his desk chair which had spun around from its position at his desk and now contained a person that should absolutely not be there. He reached for the door handle behind him to call a guard.

"I wouldn't do that. I've rigged the door to blow."

Maxsons hand froze on the handle and he looked back at the closed door behind him. Above it, duct taped to the wall, there was a makeshift explosive made from a frag mine and a pulse mine, rigged to blow if it was opened again with a tricky system of wires and what looked like the lid to his box of cigars. He had armed it when he had closed his door. He eased his hand off the handle and turned to get a good look at his abductee.

A young woman, about his age with long sandy blond hair and big puppy dog, brown eyes surrounded by long dusty looking lashes. She had a slightly sun burnt nose and a smattering of tiny freckles across her cheeks. She was dressed casually in a pair of somewhat too large jeans and a somewhat small button up pink gingham shirt.

"Where is my pack?" She asked again.

"How did you get in here?" Maxson replied instantly. He took a moment to click the lock on his door. Though it was unlikely, he didn't want someone to open his door and set off the bomb by accident and he stepped further into his quarters.

"I just walked in… where is my pack?"

Maxson stopped in the centre of the room and looked very closely at the girl in his chair, his piercing blue eyes narrowing. No, surely not.

This lovely young lady was NOT the filthy little mole rat from this morning… the thief?

"Listen man, I got no beef with being locked up and all, fair is fair, but I can't leave without that pack… it's got all my stuff in it." She stood up from his chair and took a step closer to him but stayed just out of reach. "You can keep your shit, I didn't even want the Laser Rifle."

"I don't have your pack." Maxson answered succinctly, still wide eyed in disbelief that this was the same creature that had been dragged before him earlier in the day, squirming like a bloodworm and smelling like the corpse of radstag... a blighted corpse, left rotting in the sun for week and writhing with bloatfly maggots… he smirked at this internal description of her appearance.

"Well, you're the boss right? "She protested. "Get one of your cronies to find it and I'll be out of your hair for good."

"I can't do that." Maxson said calmly, clasping his hands behind his back and looking down at her.

"Why not?" Her voice took on a wheedling quality that made him grind his teeth.

"Because…" He gritted. "I am locked in my room with a thief and have a bomb rigged to my door."

"I can't let you out." She stamped her foot like a sulky child, and he raised his eyebrow at her. "The second I let you go, you'll have me locked up again."

'It seems we're at an impasse, then." Maxson said drawing his hands back in front of him and folding them across his chest looking down at the girl.

"A what now?" the girl asked, tilting her head to one side. A lock of hair fell over her brow and she blew at it noisily.

"An Impasse. Neither one of us can move forward." He explained. "I can't retrieve your pack and wouldn't even if I could and you will not disarm the bomb on my door. Explosives are not my forte, otherwise I would just throttle you and disarm it myself, but as it is…" he sighed a little dramatically

The girl narrowed her eyes at him, she knew he was taunting her.

"Why can't you just let it go?" She huffed suddenly, edging around him. "I'm sorry I tried to steal some of your gear… but you guys are flush, you hardly need it all. I didn't think you'd miss a few little things. I'll admit touching the rifle was a mistake..."

Maxson regarded her for a while in silence as her voice petered off.

"How did you get into the compound?" He asked.

She threw her hands in the air in frustration and uttered little cry of impatience.

"For fucks sake… I came in through the storm drain, okay." She huffed again.

"And how did you get in here?" He cocked an eyebrow at her again.

"Is this going to get my pack returned?" She queried, her jaw tight. This was not going exactly the way she pictured it would.

"Maybe." He mused. "I haven't decided yet."

She pulled out one of the chairs from his table and sat down heavily in it. It had been a long day. The Elder watched her shrink down into the chair, put her elbows on the table and rub her hands over her face. She was tired and the head of steam she'd had built up was ebbing.

"I hid in the storage compartment of one of your flying machines and a couple of your guys carried me in here in one of the supply crates and then I found the wankiest room in the place and wired the door." She droned, sounding dejected, her voice slightly muffled by her hands as she ran them over her face. "I just want my pack… that's all."

She looked up at him, her large dark eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears, her bottom lip was moist and trembling. Maxson pulled the chair opposite her out and sat down as well. He watched her for a moment before laughing out loud, sensing the change in tactics.

She scowled at him, dropping the little lost girl act. She was tired… but she was also manipulative.

Maxson chuckled to himself as his eyes swept over her, coming to rest on her eyes. This close, he could see the flecks of gold sprinkled in amongst the pools for deep chocolate brown. The scowl dropped from her face as he watched and he thought he saw her breath hitch in her chest and she tore her eyes away from his, looking down at the table top instead.

"Okay… Shit. This was a bad idea. I just want to go." She muttered at the table top, running a finger along a gouge in the wood.

"Just out of curiosity." Maxson asked softly, feeling the wind go out of her sails completely. "How had you planned on getting out of here anyway? There are no more vertibirds coming or going until first light."

She shrugged her shoulders. "I was going to get my pack, knock you out and go out the back door on the level below."

He glazed over the very big hole in _that_ plan; the bit where she, a scrap of a girl, would somehow knock out a man who was a foot taller than her, who was significantly heavier, stronger and with extensive combat training and concentrated instead on what she didn't say.

"How exactly would that get you off the Prydwen?" He quizzed her.

She looked up at him, her eyes puzzled. "The what?"

"The Prydwen… the _flying_ ship you are on." He informed her gently, removing his gloves one at a time and laying them on the table.

"Oh right… right… I was going to climb down the rope."

"The rope?" He blinked and looked up at her sharply. "You were planning on climbing down the moorings? Are you mad?"

She shrugged again with a sigh. "I've done similar before…" She stood up abruptly and the chair scrapped across the floor behind her.

"Listen… I'm just…I'm gonna leave." She retrieved the chair from behind her and dragged in front of the door. She climbed up onto the chair and with quick deft movements and a couple of beeps, the mines were disarmed. She peeled the duct tape back from them and detached them from the wall before stumbling unsteadily to the floor. She stumbled back into the waiting arms of the Elder, who had silently risen from his own chair and taken up position behind her to watch her work. She turned quickly in his arms dropping the now harmless mines to the floor with a clatter and looked up into his face in surprise, her doe eyes wider than he had yet seen them.

"You just threw away your bargaining chip." He murmured down to her, his arms still holding onto her, his palms pressed into her hips, his thumb unintentionally brushing against the flash of bare flesh exposed by her borrowed shirt riding up ever so slightly.

Her lips parted slightly but no sound came out, in fact she seemed to have stopped breathing all together. Maxson frowned down at her, the creases in his brow deepening, the furrows seemed to weigh his head down… or something did, as he felt his head dip and for some completely unknown reason his lips brushed hers. He heard her gasp, felt her breath escape against his mouth before she suddenly reached her hands up to the back of his neck and drew him back in, kissing him for real. Her lips were not soft, but they were warm and plump and when he felt her teeth scrape over his bottom lip, he completely lost his head.

He pulled her in as close as she would come, slanting his face over hers and moving one of his hands up to cup her cheek, deepening their kiss and running his tongue over her lips seeking entrance. He felt her sigh and part her lips for him and he delved in, tasting sugar. The sneaky little thief had eaten one of the snack cakes he had hidden in his desk drawer before he'd come in.

He stepped forwards, forcing her up against the door and letting go of her hip long enough to push the chair out of the way. His hand boomeranged back to her waist, moulding to it and slid slowly upwards, catching the hem of her shirt and revelling in the warm, bare skin under his fingers.

She ran her fingers thorough his hair, musing the regimented style and stood up on tippy toes as far as she could reach, straining to get closer still. Maxson drew back from her for a breath before burying his face in her crook of her throat, raining kisses against her balmy skin, brushing over the hurried pulse just below her right ear.

Her breath came out in soft pants as his lips, tongue and teeth assaulted her, roaming her neck and shoulders. His hand on her cheek was hot and rough, seeming to scour her skin as it skimmed into her hair and allowed the sandy strands to bunch and slip through his fingers. His other hand had come to rest on her ribcage just below her breast and his thumb rubbed back and forth over the outline of one of her ribs, it felt like the heat in his touch would leave a permanent scar.

Ally was not entirely sure what was happening right now and she was sure that the young Elder wasn't either. He caught her as she stumbled… he kissed her… he was still kissing her… Holy Shit, was he kissing her. She wasn't sure what was happening, but she was not going to stop it, she was definitely going to let this play out, for good or for ill. It felt too good.

Maxson was not entirely sure what was happening… but fuck it, who cared.

Ally sucked in air as she felt his hand leave her abdomen, she felt his fingers fumble with the little buttons on her borrowed shirt and she felt them come free in a breath of cool air. She felt the shirt part and ease off her shoulders before disappearing completely from her body. She felt the door press against her back again, already warmed by the heat of her body and vibrating softly with the hum of the ships stabilisers.

She moaned softly as the Elders mouth dipped further down her body and for the first time in her life she felt a mans lips on her nipples. Her body began to move of its own volition, her back arching towards the heat and wetness of the mans lips and they enveloped her flesh, his tongue circling and flicking at the tight buds. Her skin was suddenly too tight for the rest of her, her insides constricted and a tingling heat blazed within her loins. She had no control over her breathing, no control over her voice and absolutely no control over her own limbs as her fingers locked in the mans hair and held his hot mouth to her.

The Elder was getting a crink in his neck from stooping, an issue he solved by grabbing hold of her bottom with both hands and lifting her up to a more comfortable level, eliciting a small squeak of surprise from the girl. She regained her composure quickly and began to paw at the collar of his coat, wanting him to be rid of it but not sure how she would remove it while his arms were otherwise occupied by holding her up.

He got the gist of what she was wanting and pulled his mouth from the ministrations to her modest breasts to look into her eyes. He craned his head around, assessing his surroundings. Bed… too far away, table… right behind him... perfect. He adjusted the grip on her bum and spun around, depositing her in the edge of the table. He paused for a beat to relieve himself of his coat, which thudded to the floor behind him. She reached for the buckle of his flight suite and undid it with nimble fingers, the zipper made a guttural buzzing sound as it descended and she hummed in appreciation as the young leaders chest was exposed to her.

The Brotherhood of Steel definitely knew how to look after its boys, everything was firm and well formed, his pectorals bulged beneath a smattering of dark hair and the glint of his holotags and the taut ripple of muscle beneath drew her eyes southwards. His skin, usually encased in Brotherhood armourments was much paler than his face, a definite delineation at his neck showed how often the rest of his body saw the sun and there were scars, lots of scars, marring the almost alabaster planes and groves of his body. She bent her head forwards, lightly brushing a jagged purple scar that ran horizontally underneath his left nipple with her lips, relishing in the salty taste of him and breathing in the scent of sweat, leather and whatever it was that their soap was made out of.

He peeled off the rest of his flight suit kicking it and his boots under the table and he went to work on her jeans, picking her up again and bumping her back down as he drew them from underneath her. She was a little in awe as to how easy it was for him to toss her around so easily, like she weighed nothing. The thought left her head as she realised, when her boots hit the floor that she was completely naked. The ladies at the police station hadn't given her underwear. The Elders eyes swept over her bare figure, taking in the small pert breasts and concave belly, her arms and legs had a good layer of tight muscle wrapped around them and her skin was tawny and sun kissed. She was a little on the skinny side but everything that needed to be there, was there and packaged very tidily indeed.

He made a growling sound in his throat that Ally found very exciting and he wrapped his large arms around her, pulling her across the table top towards him, positioning himself between her thighs and lowered his head to kiss her again.

She responded enthusiastically running her hands over every inch of his rock hard body that she could reach and wrapped her legs around his hips to urge him closer. In doing so, felt the outline of his private parts against hers through the stretchy fabric of his undergarment. She felt a stab of pleasure ripple through her as the rigid piece of him strained towards her, wanting free of its confines and wanting to be buried in something much warmer, much more snug. She felt a little bit powerful, that she could get the leader of an Army to want her so desperately.

She eased her hand between them and ran her hand down his abdomen and slipped her fingers into the waistband of his pants. She ran her palm along the length of him and heard him groan against her lips and a light shudder ran through him. She repeated the action and he pulled himself from her lips and lay his forehead against her shoulder for a moment, drinking in a deep breath before taking her hand away. She looked at him in confusion, her doe eyes wide and dark with lust. His azure gaze held her as he sank slowly to his knees in front her open thighs. Her lips parted and she gasped as she realised what he was going to do.

Those intense, piercing eyes locked on hers as he hooked his arms under her thighs and leaned forwards and ran the tip of his tongue the length of her sex. There was nothing in the wasteland that could keep the sound that issued from her from bubbling out, her eyelids dropped and her head fell backwards and low groan split the quiet room. She had touched herself on a number of occasions, but nothing she had done to herself had ever felt like that.

She leaned back on to the table top and let him do whatever he was doing down there, her body was putty in his hands and she writhed under his attentions. She was breathing in mewling pants when his mouth left her most sensitive parts and she looked up at him as he stood up, her eyes dewy, as he positioned himself between her thighs. His underwear was gone and she felt a blunt intrusion pushing against her and she arched her back to meet him. His large hands gripped her hips on either side and he slipped inside her.

She sat bolt upright as pain ripped though her lower regions… and the Elders eyes flew open in shock when she cried out in hurt. He froze and fixed a stunned stare on her face.

"You're a…?" He stuttered, holding still, not quite sure what to do now.

She gulped in oxygen and let the breath out slowly, adjusting to the stretch and burn of him inside of her. It wasn't too bad, not really... just a surprise is all.

"Yeah." She gasped, still breathless from everything that had gone before… and there was more, she knew it. "Don't stop" She breathed.

He looked uncertain as he pulled slowly out of her, not all of the way, but enough to see the pinkish tinge of blood in her juices coating him, confirmation that he had taken her maidenhead.

"Don't stop, Elder" She repeated, taking hold of his retreating hips and drawing them back to her.

"Arthur." He whispered, relenting and pushing into her, more gently this time. "My name is Arthur."

"Arthur." She whispered back, her lips meeting his.

He began a slow rhythm, moving smoothly in and out of her with care, she was making all right sounds, made all the right moves and she kissed him with a new found ferocity, he couldn't keep up the slow gentle strokes and his hips snapped more forcefully against her. She moaned and pushed herself onto him, her legs wrapped around his hips and pulling at him, she was so tight and so hot and wet and when he felt her take his bottom lip in between her teeth and bite down, all bets were off. He slammed into her hard and rejoiced in the pleasured cry that tore from her.

He plunged in again and again, feeling the pressure in his groin build to towering heights and he could feel her tightening around him as she breathed his name over and over, he knew he wouldn't last long and he needed her to topple over the cliff with him. He let go of her hip and pressed the pad of his thumb against her sex, circling her clit fast to mirror the rhythm of his forceful thrusts. He felt her tighten and her body bowed back, tensed to breaking before she cried out softly, a sound that petered off to a contented moan and her felt her walls flutter in release. It was too much. With one last drive, he was deep inside her and a ragged groan escaped him as he came.

He slapped his hands on the table top on either side of her and leaned into her to keep from tumbling over as his legs threatened to go out from under him.

A heavy silence fell over the Elders quarters except for the deep laboured breaths from the two of them as they collected themselves. Ally lay back on the table top and the Elder was braced over her, not quite lying on top of her there was a discernible space between their bodies from their still melded hips to where his forehead leaned against her collarbone.

She reached up and began to straighten his dishevelled hair, running her fingers through it and patting it down and he glanced up at her. She didn't know what the look meant.

"That was… unexpected," she said lamely.

He was still looking at her weirdly. He pushed himself up off the table top and she watched the play of muscle in his arms as he did so. He withdrew from her carefully.

She hissed as he left her, not an injured sound, just a reaction to the unfamiliar feeling, but his eyes snapped to hers before he looked away and ran his hand over his face and stepped away. He found a bottle of bourbon on the shelf and unscrewed the cap slowly and thoughtfully before raising the bottle to his lips and taking a long chug at it. He was floored and not exactly sure what to say, he had never been in this position before.

His head whipped about at the sound of the door to his quarters clicking discretely closed. The room was empty, she was gone.

* * *

Ally Beckett, stood uncertainly at the base of the ladder and peered down the stairs at the room below, it looked like the place that that flew this ship from. She cautiously stepped down and cleared her throat to catch the attention of the stern faced man that she had 'met' on her first trip to the Prydwen.

"I was wondering if I could trouble you for a lift to the ground." She said softly as he looked up from the clipboard he was reading. He eyes were wary as he looked at the young woman he had never seen before and who should not even be on his boat at all, especially in the early hours of the morning. His eyes turned just this side of hostile as he looked her up and down for an uncomfortably long time, taking in her faded, slightly too big jeans, tight pink gingham shirt which was missing a button and a scuffed pair of small combat boots with the laces untied, before speaking.

"Who are you?" He took a few slow steps towards her and stopped only a couple of feet from her. "And how did you get on this ship?"

She rolled her eyes, not this again.

'I'm Ally." She introduced herself shortly, fighting with the instinct not to cast a look over her shoulder. "and I need to get down to the ground. I can get down without your help but I thought I would be courteous and ask."

"You go nowhere until you tell me how you got here." He demanded.

"I bought her here." A commanding voice floated over Allys shoulder and she flinched inwardly, not looking as the Elder strode down the steps. This was awkward but not unexpected. She wondered how he would explain her presence, if he would bother explaining at all.

"The lady has been advising me on some serious security issues." Maxson said as he reached her side, standing on the step next to her as he looked down at his subordinate. "Issues that will be addressed at a special meeting that I am scheduling for after the morning muster, with all of the officers in attendance." His tone brokered no dispute, and none was forthcoming from the startled Lancer Captain.

The Elder turned his head and looked down at the lady next to him, she stared off in front of her as if he wasn't there, focusing on the symbol on the Lancer Captains hat.

"I will fly you to your elected destination personally, ma'am" He said in a respectful tone, ignoring the uncomfortable silence as he cursed himself inwardly. He didn't even know her name. "For your service to the Brotherhood."

He stepped back from her and held his arm up, indicating that she should go up the stairs before him. She nodded, still not meeting his eyes and began up the stairs.

"Send out an internal mail, Kells. I want the officers on the command deck at ten sharp." The Elder ordered before following his 'guest' out of the bridge. Kells saluted his Elder and the watched the retreating back of the woman suspiciously. She was familiar.

No… surely not.

 **AN: Longer than I intended… I do tend to blather on. I hope this wasn't too terrible. I didn't really spell of grammar check this FYI, sorry for the mistakes .**


	2. Chapter 2

**2\. The Bodyguard**

 **OC (sort of… but not really, he exists I just gave him a name) x Charon x Sole Survivor**

 **No bad language (which is a first for me) no sex, not even any Violence (what?). Just a short, fluffy-ish kind of piece, as fluffy as I get anyway…**

Oliver Somerville was ten years old then.

In the grand scheme of things, in the Commonwealth, he was a no one. A settler.

He lived with his dad and his sister in the remains of a ruined house in the southwest, not too far from where the Commonwealth mutated into the Glowing Sea. The house was the focal point for one of the Minutemens settlements, though Oliver, his dad and his sister were there first, so even though shacks had sprung up around them and people circulated amongst them and the newly planted fields and stood atop the newly erected guard towers… the place was still called 'Somerville Place' and it was above all else, Olivers home.

He clearly remembered the day that the General had arrived at their home, back when it was just the three of them. His dad had sent out a call for aid. They had been plagued by a greenskin hive and the senior Somerville was getting scared that maybe his children may be no long for this world. He had not really expected any help and yet, was not really impressed when a lone woman had showed up to answer the call.

She had listen to his case all the while clicking the safety on and off on a fancy looking pistol at her hip. She had nodded solemnly got up without a word and left. The Somervilles had exchanged looks and shrugs and had carried on.

Days later the woman had returned. She looked exhausted, her shoulders slumped as she trudged up the old dirt road leading to their door. Worse, she was splattered with all kinds of gore. Olivers sister Maisy, had shrunk back from the woman and hid behind her father as the lady told him that the greenskins would no longer be a problem.

She had sunk down and sat on the edge of the dilapidated car that adorned the front yard and dug around in her pockets for a cigarette. Oliver thought she was badass.

That was the day that they officially joined the Minutemen, he had been ten.

Oliver was still young but he had wanted to help, inspired by the General. His dad had been hesitant but had finally relented and let him go out with the salvage parties. He was to keep out of any encounters and was really only there to carry stuff like a little pack Brahmin, but he did get to carry his own gun. It was only a pipe pistol, cobbled together with junk… but it was his and when he was sitting around at night, he would absently flick the safety on and off, just like the general had done.

Sometimes, Oliver was allowed to go with one of the Sanctuary based provisioners who travelled all over the Commonwealth carrying supplies and communications through out all of the settlements. They were a vital part of the Minuteman infrastructure, the lifeline and they were heavily defended as such… the only reason he was allowed to travel with them. He had travelled to Sanctuary a few times and he loved it every time, though it was tiring to walk so far for so long.

The General was there and he got to see her… she even talked to him, she even knew his name. She had a pet dog and was friends with a greenskin and a ghoul. She had a robot who wore a hat and her boyfriend was a synth… a really big synth who wore Power Armour. She was Olivers hero.

* * *

The sound of mooing Brahmin was almost wistful. It followed the provisioner willingly with no bridle or rope, like the guy was a carrot dangling on the end of a stick. The caravan guards fanned out from the road, their weapons in hand and eyes constantly moving. Every quiver of leaves in a bush was a potential threat. Oliver walked next to the Brahmin he had named Gump, he didn't know why, but it just seemed to fit the creature and it sounded funny.

They were heading to Sanctuary again, a ton of Mirelurk meat from Murkwater was the load this time. The place attracted Mirelurks like no ones business and this time the settlers there had taken down one of the enormous queens. The group were walking north, stopping at every settlement in between to drop off the plentiful meat.

Every settlement greeted them warmly, exchanging pleasantries and accepting the supplies and stacks of letters, crowding around as correspondence was dolled out, excited to hear news of friends and family at other settlements. This was Olivers job, he held onto the satchel of precious paper. He sorted the letters every evening into locations and stowed them neatly away. The General herself had given him the job, saying that such an important job should go to someone she trusted. Oliver had felt his chest swell with pride at her words. _He_ had the Generals trust.

The job was not without danger. The caravans were attacked by raiders and such but Oliver never felt overly threatened. He was scared when it happened but he always stood his ground, like the way the General would. He had even killed a guy once. A human guy, not a mongrel or a feral, but a real live man. Oliver didn't like to think about it.

Greygarden had been no exception when it came to warm greetings. The provisioner team had approached the gates to welcoming calls and the gates had been flung open. A few settlers even coming out to greet them on the road, some zeroing in on Oliver right off the bat. He had grinned and accepted the claps on the shoulder and the offered tin of water, stopping and letting the others pass as he dug into his satchel for the letters that everyone craved. It was great to feel so appreciated, not like back at Somerville Place where he would have been set to work tending the tatos and corn.

They stayed the night at Greygarden. Oliver sorted the new pile of letters laid across his cot, packed them up and slept like a baby. They were off early the next morning, heading towards their next stop at Sunshine Tidings Co-op.

The day was hot. It was always hot, there were no seasons as such but you could tell what part of the year you were experiencing by the type of heat. It was summer. The heat was dry, sucking the moisture out of everything with even a trace water in it, saving it up for winter when it would be hot and damp.

Oliver adjusted his baseball cap, trying to protect his already burnt nose against even more blisters. He trudged next to Gump, trying to keep in the beasts shadow as he walked. The day went like any other until, not far from their destination, the guard out in front raised his hand to halt the group and peered to his left. There was something happening on the road, near the bypass that headed west towards Nukaworld. Oliver tilted his head to the side and listened hard, catching very vague sounds of weapons fire in the distance.

The guards talked in hushed tones and Oliver had to strain to hear what was going on as the scout that was sent ahead, came back.

A caravan was under attack down the road… so close to a settlement?… looked like one of Daisys, coming from the Capital… never seen raiders like that before… do we engage?... can't leave them like that… We're Minutemen, have to help.

Oliver was told to stay where he was, to protect Gump and everyone else disappeared up the road ahead. Oliver drew is pistol and clicked off the safety. He crouched down by Gumps front legs and waited, keeping his eyes on the road, but casting longing looks off the road to the north. Sunshine was over the hill, oblivious to what was happening here but chock full of fully armed settlers and a garrison of tricked out, Brotherhood soldiers. He was torn between obeying his orders to stay, to go and help the caravan guards fight and run for Sunshine for back up.

He came to a decision. He scribbled a quick note and duct taped it to the outside of his satchel. He hung it over one of Gumps heads and slapped her smartly on the rump, sending her up the hill and on the familiar path to Sunshine just to the north. She could waddle faster and for longer by herself and she knew where the water and feed were from here.

Oliver hurried along the road towards the sound of fighting, the sound getting louder as he ran. He crested a rise in the road and beheld a genuine battlefield… and he was too late to join in, the area was now dead quiet.

Bodies strew the ground, in the leather armour of caravan guards and mercs and the unusual, improvised armour of the raiders that they faced. The air was thick with the coppery smell and taste of blood, each breath Oliver took was drenched in it and it made him gag as he dragged his feet down the recess and into the midst of the devastation. There were piles of twisted metal that had been robots, charred and smoking, filling the air with the stink of burnt plastic and hot metal. There were the bodies of the pack Brahmin crumpled on their sides and heads hanging in the dust as if only sleeping. One had survived and had wandered off to graze, unconcerned with the slaughter only a few yards away and mooing softly.

Oliver hunkered down and checked the body closest to him, one of his own caravan guards, the mans eyes were blank and staring at the sky. He checked the next body and the next. He came to the body of one of the raiders. His obviously dead face covered with a makeshift steel grill that looked like the front of an eyebot. All of the raiders armour was made from mutilated robots, fixed in a slapdash way to the outside of their leathers.

Oliver came to the body of the caravaneer that had been under attack. The womans face was half burned off, the air stunk of sizzling meat and hair. Oliver retched when he realised he didn't find the smell unpleasant. It was a chilling thought. He back away from her shakily and resumed his search for survivors.

There was groan from the ground behind him, one of the raiders he had not thought to check yet, thinking them all dead. He levelled his pistol at the man raising himself slowly from the dust, blood pumped from a wound in his leg as he tried to put pressure on it. The raider turned sharply, when Oliver pulled back the hammer on his pistol and chambered a round, and fixed the boy with a baleful glare. He bared his uneven and yellowed teeth and began to stumble towards him. Oliver pointed the gun and closed his eyes tight, squeezing on the trigger of his little .38.

BOOM.

A shot that no pistol could make, ruptured the silence. The raider flew backwards and hit the ground flat on his back, sliding a little and kicking up a cloud of choking dust. He was definitely dead now.

Oliver looked around for the source of the ear splitting blast and his eyes fell on a merc sitting up on the road, a smoking sawed off shot gun in his hand. A ghoul merc.

The shotgun slipped from his fingers and thudded to the ground and the hand that had been holding it grasped at a gapping wound in his side. He hissed and shuddered forwards, folding in on himself in pain. Oliver hurried to his side and knelt down next to him.

"You OK, mister?" Oliver asked, putting his hand on the mercs shoulder.

The ghoul however, was looking around him at the bodies flung about on the ground.

"My employer?" He rasped, fixing his gaze on the bodies one at a time trying to identify them.

"The caravaneer? The lady with red hair?" Oliver guessed, a weight forming in his stomach. He had never had to deliver bad news before.

The ghoul nodded and fixed the boy with a look that seemed almost desperate.

Oliver swallowed deeply and his eyes flicked towards the burned ladies body. The ghoul read the expression on the boys face and his eyes went stony, an invisible shield coming down around him.

"I failed." He spat.

He sat for a moment staring straight ahead before levering his free arm behind him, trying to push himself to his feet. Oliver scrambled up to help the ghoul, not wanting him to hurt himself more than he already was. The ghoul managed to stand, though he was doubled over, clutching at the seeping damage in his side while Oliver hovered over him, not sure what he should do.

"Take me." The ghoul ordered, that raspy voice tinged with agony as he tried to take step towards the corpse of the lady on the ground and faltered.

Oliver quickly holstered his pistol and wedged himself carefully under the ghouls arm, taking his weight across his young shoulders. They hobbled slowly across the road, littered with detritus of combat and came to a stop over the body of the woman.

The ghoul groaned and dropped to his knees beside her.

"Oh no." he whispered hoarsely and he reached out to touch her face. "Moira…"

He sat over her mournfully, not even hearing the engines of the vertibird approaching. Oliver looked to the sky and saw the airship speeding towards their position from Sunshine. Gump had made it safe and sound and their back up was coming. Olivers eyes roamed over the scene and he sighed.

He left the ghoul to his grief and walked to the edge of the battlezone watching the vertibrid descend into the field. As it landed, a small group alighted and walked towards him. Their shoulders down, they knew they were too late.

Oliver waited for them to make it to him, his back straightening as he saw the General was one of the would be rescuers.

"Oliver." She greeted sombrely, taking in the tableau behind him. "Tell me what happened."

"There's an injured guy, he needs a medic." He pointed to the ghoul kneeling in the dust.

The General nodded towards the Brotherhood scribe at her shoulder and the scribe hurried over to the ghoul not questioning her orders to help a ghoul, the field scribes knew better than that now. Oliver watched as she touched his shoulder hesitantly, not wanting to startle him and the ghoul looking up at her.

Oliver turned back to the General and reported what had happened. She listened to him attentively and asked a few questions, nodding at each of his answers. When they were done she patted him on the shoulder and sent him to sit on the Vertibird. He did as he was bid and watched the group from Sunshine collect their dead and the dead of the Caravan, examine the raiders and wrangle one reluctant Brahmin. The General radioed back to the settlement for a salvage crew to come out and go through everything and then went to hunker down by the lone survivor of the fight.

Oliver leaned against the warm steel shell of the Vertibird and let his head fall back with a clunk. His eyes filled with tears as the adrenalin drained from him and everything that had just happened came rushing to him in a flood.

Everyone. The whole provisioner caravan was dead. He shuddered as the wounded raider charged at him again. He jumped as the shotgun boomed in his ear. He sniffled loudly and ran his forearm over his eyes, collecting the tears before they fell with his sleeve. He heaved a great deep, shuddering breath and let it out slowly and shakily. The General didn't cry like a little baby.

He looked back over at the woman his eyes still misting and his bottom lip still quivering though he was determined to stay strong. She was rifling through the clothes of the dead caravaneer. It looked like she found what she was looking for as she knelt back down next to the ghoul and unfolded a piece of worn paper and read it, talking intermittently in a low tone with the ghoul as she did so. Their backs were to him so he didn't really know what they were doing or saying and the scribe flittered around them tending the merc.

The General suddenly looked his way and seemed to ask a question of the Ghoul with her eyes fixed on Oliver. The merc nodded his head and the General stood slowly.

She looked down at the merc one last time and then started walking towards Oliver, her look indiscernible.

"Oliver." She said softly as she came to a stop before him. She looked down at him, her lips pursed and her brow arched. "You okay, kid?"

"Yes ma'am." He said, trying not to sniffle.

The corner of her mouth quirked as she detected the forced confidence and heard the decided quiver in his voice. She didn't mention it much to Olivers relief, instead she held out the scrap of paper that she had lifted from the body.

"I am to give you this." She said.

Oliver reached out his hand hesitantly and took the paper from her hand, holding it with a look of confusion on his face.

"The mercs name is Charon." She said seriously, "and apparently, he works for you now."

Oliver stared at her dumbly. She almost chuckled at the look of incomprehension on his face, but she was almost as shocked as he was by what she had just heard.

"Oliver… you'd better take a breath, buddy, before you pass out." She said.

He did as she said and started breathing again, shaking his head.

"I don't understand." He admitted, staring at the merc who was being helped to his feet by the scribe and one of the minutemen.

"The piece of paper in your hand is Charons contract." She explained as gently as she could, not quite understanding the ghoul and his brief explanation herself. "Whoever holds his contract gets his unfaltering service and loyalty, or so he says."

Oliver blinked a few times, watching the merc being helped to walk in his direction. "You mean… you mean like a slave?"

"Apparently not." She shook her head. "There are terms of employment in the contract that you need to abide by. It's more like a self imposed indentureship, I guess. You're his employer."

"I can't afford to have… staff… I'm twelve." Oliver sputtered.

"I don't think you have to pay him, or set up a dental plan." She almost grinned. "You found him, you saved him. I think that's enough."

"A person who works for someone else and doesn't get paid? I'm pretty sure that's a slave." Olivers voice was becoming a little hysterical as the merc limped closer.

"You can sell his contract. Or give it away." She suggested, watching the mercs slow progress.

"Sell? Like a slave?" Oliver cringed.

"I'm pretty sure he's going to insist on staying with you. He wouldn't take the contract himself. I already tried that."

Olivers eyes opened wider than saucers as the merc came to stop in front of him. The ghoul was ginormous. Oliver did not register the ghouls size when he had been laid out on the ground or hunched over against his shoulder or kneeling in the dust next to his former employer. He towered over everyone.

He had patchy aurburn hair and blue eyes covered with a milky kind of film. He was different from the ghouls that Oliver had met in the Commonwealth, none of the Commonwealth ghouls had hair and all of their eyes were black, like Mayor Hancock or Wiseman. Charons skin was rough and scared, some of it still looked raw, not like Mayor Hancock whose skin looked like a long healed burn. He was kinda scary looking.

"Sir," Charons gruff voice was abrupt but quiet. "You are my employer and I will do as you command." His milky eyes bored into the boy. "My gun is yours, but be aware that physical violence done by yourself against my person will invalidate our contract and I will retaliate. I suggest you read and understand the terms."

Oliver looked up at the massive ghoul with his mouth hanging open and his eyes almost popping out of his head.

"I have a request." Charon carried on talking, ignoring his new employers startled silence. "I wish to advise my pervious employers mate of her demise and let him know my contract has changed hands. He is a good man and deserves to be advised as soon as possible."

"Uhhh… Of course… yeah." Oliver stammered. "You … you could go back to him if you want?"

"If that is your wish, sir, I will advise him that you would like to open negotiations for the sale of my contract." Charon said dispassionately. "though, I will not leave your side until negotiations are complete and my contract changes hands."

The General snorted from her place at Olivers side. It wasn't funny. She cleared her throat.

"I will contact Elder Maxson to get a message to the Capital, get a message to your… 'former employers mate'. Is he on good terms with the Brotherhood of Steel?" She asked Charon.

"Yes. He can regularly be found in or near the Citadel." Charon advised her, "Her name is Moira Brown." He inclined his head in the direction of the dead caravaneer, his jaw tightening. "His name is Jason Forbes, He is the Sentinel."

"The Lone Wanderer?… You belonged to _the_ Lone Wanderer?" Oliver squeaked in surprise.

Charons eyes snapped back to the boy and narrowed "I did not _belong_ to anyone. I suggest you read my contract."

The Generals lips almost quirked into a grin again… this _was not_ funny, but it was going to be interesting to watch.

"I will make sure it's done before the end of the day." She assured him. "Now please, I want to get you back to Sunshine Tidings for proper medical attention and Oliver needs rest as well, it's been a… a traumatic day for everyone."

The General stood back from the towering merc and indicated that he should get on board the Vertibird. He instead turned from her and shuffled back amongst carnage, searching the ground, his hand held tightly to his side. He carefully stooped and scooped up the sawed off shotgun that he had dropped, holstering it over his shoulder. He didn't look at the still form of Moira Brown as he limped back and, shaking off the helping hand of the General, lifted his young and surprised new employer on board before climbing up himself.

He sat rigidly next to Oliver, his eyes forward. The General waited for the attending scribe to climb up and then pounded on the side of the bird, telling the Lancer to take off. She backed away and waited to the bird to take off and start the short trip back to Sunshine.

She wondered how exactly this was going to play out. How long would the giant ghoul be in service to a twelve year old and how would he cope with it? How would Oliver, the mail carrier, cope with having an unwanted but undoubtedly deadly and surly ghoul bodyguard? And what would happen when the Lone Wanderer heard about all of this?

She sighed and turned. She would retrieve the body of Moira Brown. Her first ever trip out of the Capital had not gone well.

 **AN: I have heaps of scenarios for Charon... he's my fave character from Fallout 3 - I have a thing for the brooding badasses.**


	3. Chapter 3

**3\. The Visitor (or, The Thief: Part two)**

 **OC x Elder Maxson – I had no intention of writing a follow up, but here's a follow up. It was so very easy to write. A little smutty. Just a tad.**

It took a few moments for her to realise that her foot had not yet touched the ground. It hovered just above the dirt, frozen in place, just like the rest of her as her eyes fell on the object sitting propped up against the stairs on her front porch. She had in fact, halted mid stride as if she had been hit by a freeze ray from some corny, old comic book and the look on her face absolutely had to be comical to behold, her jaw hanging open and her rich, brown doe eyes wide in surprise.

Her eyes shifted from the object to the left and to the right of her, trying to find where it had come from, as if the source was still hanging around for her to discover. She placed her foot back down on terra firma and looked around herself warily.

There was no sign of anyone. She looked back down the hill towards the crumbling coastal road that led to her house. She peered into the darkened interior of the old wooden garage to her left and then let her eyes roam back towards the porch and front door of the shack before her. At some stage, ages ago, her home had been a pretty seaside cottage looking out towards the Atlantic Ocean. Now only the porch and the front portion of it still stood. She had painstakingly built a back wall and a roof to enclose a small space of her own. It wasn't much, but it was hers and it was secret. At least, it should have been…

Everything seemed to be as it should be. Everything was in its place, accept that which she thought was lost for good, was now sitting on her damned porch.

Someone had been there.

The day that she lost it came back to her in a flash and a set of sapphire eyes laced with silver swam into her vision, unbidden. She took a deep breath.

But...she hadn't bought him here… she'd had him drop her off at the old processing plant to the north and she had walked back here in the predawn alone, long after that small airship of his had departed. He didn't know where she was… why then, was her faded green backpack sitting on her porch?

Ally Beckett nibbled on her bottom lip with the kind of nervous energy running up her spine. That had been weeks ago.

She had crawled through the storm drain that twisted and turned its way underneath the Boston Airport and snuck up into the storage bay housed within. She had amassed a tidy wee pile of loot from the stores of the Brotherhood of Steel. Not too much that would be missed, just enough to see her through and ensure that she could return for a repeat performance in the future without too much trouble, enough to be overlooked and ultimately ignored. But then her eyes had fallen on a fancy white crate with a temptingly tricky looking lock on it. Greedy… She had gotten greedy and it led to her capture. It led to her being bought before the Elder.

She shook her head to clear his face from her mind. It had been weeks ago.

Ally pulled the dirty red bandana from her head and rubbed it over her face to mop up the sudden sheen of sweat that had formed there. All she really succeeded in doing was smear the thick layer of grime and expose a tract of clear sun kissed skin and cause her filthy hair to stick up in all directions, the locks plastered together with filth. She shoved the bandana into the pocket of her faded jeans that were a size too big for her and looked very different from the day that she received them, they were now tattered, torn and stained with who knows what. She had discarded the pink gingham shirt about a week ago as the last of the buttons had popped off, it was always just a little too tight. She now had on an oversized tee shirt that she knotted at her waist so it didn't look quite so tent like, the neck line was too big and frequently fell off her shoulder. Everything was covered in a thick coat of muck. One of the hazards of her trade, she spent a lot of time in pipes; sewers, drains, air ducts… and such places didn't have cleaning staff to maintain them, not these days.

Weeks ago… It was amazing how much dirt she had acquired over the past few weeks. It wasn't her fault, not really. Clean water was scarce and so was her access to Rad-away... she couldn't afford to be clean, not like she was that night…

Though she had not been happy with their methods and she had been pretty dark on them at the time, she was grateful for the harsh bathing session that had preceded her incarceration with the Brotherhood of Steel, short lived though it was. She had tried to keep clean after that, she really did, but her profession and circumstances had let her down.

Ally was conscious of her appearance now. She remembered the difference in his eyes when he looked at her, first when she had been dragged before him, and then later that night.

It didn't look like anyone was around but she pulled the little pipe pistol out of the waist band of her jeans and stalked up to her front door on quick, silent feet, her wide eyes darting around to try and catch sight of any movement. She squatted down and prodded the pack carefully when she reached it. It was definitely her pack, with the 'Visit Jamaica Plains' patch sewn on the front. She unbuckled it and checked through the contents, noting that it was all there, everything she had in it that day was present and accounted for. It was funny, she had said that she needed everything in it, she had infiltrated the floating Brotherhood fortress to find it but it really was all just junk and had all been replaced since. She frowned, fastened the buckles again and tucked her gun back into her pants before hoisting the pack to her shoulder and reaching for the doorknob of her little house.

She pushed her way into the dim interior and stopped dead on the threshold as she locked eyes with the tall and immaculate man who stood in the centre of her living room.

Ally blinked in shock, stepped back outside and onto her porch and slammed the door closed behind her, backing away from it in disbelief. What the Fucking Crap-n-Fuck was he doing in her house?

Her backwards motion halted suddenly as the porch railing hit her in the back. She stared at the cracked and peeling paint on her door as if it would suddenly spring to life and devour her, her chest heaving as she gasped for air, when the innocent and unoffending door opened and he calmly stepped outside. She shrunk back from him as far as the wood paling would allow, her hands finding her hair which she tried in vain to smooth down in shame. This was not happening.

"H-How did you…?" Ally stuttered, staring up at his bewildering handsome, young face.

Arthur Maxson smiled slyly down at the dirty little waif before him. "I just walked in." He said mockingly, his voice deep and compelling.

Ally did not find that amusing at all.

She felt the Elders eyes raking over her, taking in her scummy attire and her general state of unkempt. He remembered though; the delicate, pretty young lady with sandy blonde hair, large doe like eyes and the long dusty eyelashes. The one with the tiny freckles sprinkling her cheeks and the warm, plump lips guarding the entrance to her sweet and welcoming mouth. He knew what was under the dirt… all of the dirt… and the ruined clothes.

Ally could almost feel him peeling back the layers with his piercing eyes. Holy shit… those eyes.

Maxson ignored her discomfiture and drew himself up to his full, intimidating height, clamping his hands behind his back.

"It took me a while to track you down, I flew over this…. house?…" He raised an eyebrow in derision as he glanced around the rundown porch area of her beloved half cottage, "…a few times and did not think it suitable for human habitation. More fool me." His eyes tracked her again, pinning her to the spot. "It is also some distance from where you asked me to drop you off."

Ally dropped her eyes to her boots and grimaced at his tone. She didn't know what that tone meant.

The night, or rather early morning, he had flown her from the Prydwen had been awkward. The entire trip had passed in near silence save for Ally telling him to follow the coast north and directing him to land in the yard of the derelict fish processing plant and as soon as the vertibird had touched ground she was out and gone without a single word more, not even a backwards glance and blending seamlessly into the shadows of the familiar yard.

She wasn't sure why he was even here, why he would bother to look for her?

"Your pack was discovered in the storm drain outside of the storage bay in our compound." Maxson continued, still ignoring her silence. "You expressed some interest in its location so I have bought it upon myself to see to its safe return."

'Expressed some interest…?' She had snuck aboard the hulking Prydwen and had tried to hold him hostage…sort of… in exchange for the packs return. She was still examining her boots as if they were suddenly the most fascinating thing she had ever seen in her life.

Maxson gave a huff of impatience. He was tired of looking at the top of her head, it was dirty. The locks of her hair thickly matted with some kind of charcoal coloured grease and there were bits of chaff sticking to it.

"Are you not going to say something?" he asked as gently as he could muster, but still overly gruff.

She shook her head, not raising her eyes and Maxson felt a painful stab of guilt. He cleared his throat.

"It didn't take you long to revert back to your feral state, I see." he said coldly, instantly regretting it until her eyes snapped up to meet his and they narrowed dangerously, the tiny golden flecks seeming to glow in their liquid depths. There she was, the fiery little thief was back, he thought with satisfaction.

"Unlike some people in the Commonwealth, us simple folk have to work for what we get and sometimes that work takes us to unpleasant places. Some people have to get their hands dirty rather than let their lackeys pick up the slack, Elder." She snapped at him

"Hands, I understand." He smirked, reaching out a hand to flick a lock of her filthy hair out of her eyes. "I am not sure how you manage to get the rest of you so… uh …" he scrunched up his nose in distaste and wiped his fingers off on the leg of his flight suit.

"Urgh. It's only grease. Look, I stripped some parts out of an old factory a few days ago... I was cleaner before that." She didn't know why she was trying to justify herself to him.

He raised his eyebrow at her again and it was infuriatingly condescending. He glanced towards her small backyard which was the final resting place for the old ceramic bathtub that must have resided in the house before the bombs and looked back at her meaningfully.

She snorted at the guys ignorance. "Yeah right. You got enough rad free water to fill that thing? You got Rad-away or Rad-ex if you don't? 'Cause I don't have any of that stuff. And I ain't gonna turn into a ghoul just so I don't offend your sensibilities."

He frowned down at her again as she jabbed her finger into his chest to accentuate her point.

"I thought you were some kind of thief… why don't you steal some?" He asked quietly.

She huffed in contempt and shoved past him, pushing her door open and whirling on him. "You can't steal it if there ain't any around… it's not like chems grow on trees you know. I don't know, maybe they do in your world. Elder" She gave him a superior look, tilting her head and looking down her dirty nose at him before slamming the door in his face.

Maxson grimaced at closed door. He still didn't know her name. That had to be a bad thing, right? He was not exactly sure what he was expecting when he came here and he guessed it was not really a surprise. He just wanted to see her again, maybe talk to her about what happened between the two of them… the darker part of him maybe wanted to repeat what had happened between the two of them but it was just so very random that it had to be just a one off thing, the planets would never align like that again – one tired, stressed and slightly amused Elder, one clean, pretty and feisty thief, a missing backpack and a bomb… at one in the morning in his quarters on the Prydwen. A dash of attraction and a sudden absence of inhibitions or reason… Nope, way too many variables in the whole scenario.

He was still unsure how exactly events played out the way they had on that morning.

She was pretty, warm and vulnerable. When you put it like that, he came off as a total cad, taking advantage of the pretty little virgin. Oh God, she had been a virgin! He was a total cad!

Maxson ran his hand over his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose, a fresh wave of guilt ran over him and he glared at the closed door in front of him. At least he knew where she was now. It was something.

* * *

Ally leaned against her door and took a few calming breaths… He was so damned hot!

She looked down at herself and groaned, she looked fucking awful… worse than the first time she had met him after crawling through the storm drain to get to all the Brotherhood goodies, covered from head to toe in sludge and smelling like god knows what.

She closed her eyes and strained to hear what was happening outside her door. He hadn't moved. There was no sound of boots leaving the porch. He was just standing there. Didn't he have an army to run or something? Why didn't he just go away? She waited in silence until she finally heard the 'clomp, clomp' of heavy boots walking away. She heard the bottom step squeak and then there was nothing. She still didn't moved. She waited, almost holding her breath and then off in the distance, she heard the roar of a vertibird engine, lifting the vehicle off the ground and then receding into the expanse. She slid her back down the door with a long sigh and sat her backside on the floor.

She didn't really know what to make of this visit by the Leader of the Brotherhood of Steel. She didn't really know what to make of her whole experience with the Elder. Her breath hitched in her throat as her mind invariably wandered back to that night. Her brash action in sneaking aboard in the vain attempt to reclaim her pack, her resentment at the Brotherhoods very existence, the 'impasse' she found herself in… is that what he called it? His arrogance. He was such a superior bastard.

And then, without rhyme or reason it had all changed. They had clawed at each other in a lust-filled frenzy and by the end of it all he was acting weird and she wasn't a virgin anymore.

She let her eyes lids drift closed and hummed as she remembered the feel of his hands on her, his lips. She had never felt anything so good before, not in her entire twenty year existence. She could still feel him inside her, her core throbbed with the memory. She could still feel his eyes on her. God Damn, those eyes. The way they held her captive and dug themselves right into her brain.

And then, then it had changed again. Awkward. Strange. He had look at her weird, he went quiet. She had no idea what to do or say. It's not like she had planned any kind of grand seduction or anything. It's not like she had ever done anything like that before. And then she had, I guess you could have called it 'scarpered'. She was dressed and out the door before anyone could react. He and taken her home, or where he perceived was her home and then she had… well, scarpered again.

Was she supposed to talk about what had happened?

Nah, Fuck that! It would have been even more uncomfortable than her running off. What was she supposed to do? It's not like there was a technical document that detailed how one was supposed to act after impromptu coitus with a virtual stranger.

She glared at her hands for a while, her nails were caked in black gunge and she scowled in distaste.

He was perfect. She was just an 'it'.

* * *

It was two days later that Ally trudged up the old asphalt driveway that lead to her house and once again, she froze in place warily. Something was wrong. A strange rattling sound drifted through the air. She dug her pistol out from her waistband and stalked towards the sound. She mounted her porch and frowned at the large machine in her back yard.

Where had that come from? And what was it?

It was set up next to the old tub and was connected by a long copper wire to a small generator. There was a small tattered cardboard box sitting on the arid ground next to it with a small piece of paper flapping blithely in the breeze that drifted in off of the ocean. Ally eyed it all warily from the shelter of the porch. She carefully climbed over the railing and dropped softly to the earth and crept closer to the new items. She reached her hand out hesitantly to the slip of paper and pulled it free from where it was tucked into the folds of the box.

She unfolded the paper and snorted sceptically at the message written there in bold black script.

"USE IT."

Use it? She thought. What the fuck was it?

She looked over the machine as it chugged away next to her. It was noisy. She followed the wire back to the generator, she snorted again. Fusion. Where was she supposed to get the cores to keep it running? She then followed a long rubber hose to where it immersed in the small irradiated creek that trickled not far away. She wandered back to the machine and walked around it, finally seeing the spigot that freed fresh clean water to be able to fill the bathtub.

Elder Arthur had given her a water purifier, just so she could take a bath and not offend his sensibilities. She stared at the big machine in disbelief.

Her eyes fell back to the cardboard box and she squatted down to open it. Soap, a hairbrush and an orange and grey jumpsuit that looked kinda like the one that he wore and another note folded neatly on top.

"Seriously, USE IT!"

She barked out an incredulous kind of laugh. The nerve…! She ran her finger absently over the stamped insignia on the bottom corner of the paper, the Brotherhood of Steel emblem and reached over to release the stop valve on the purifier. It sputtered at first and then a gush of sparkling, clear water spilled out into the bath tub, which she now noticed was clean as well, no longer clogged with dirt and debris.

She pursed her lips in thought as she watched the waterline in the tub rise and absently untied the knot on her giant tee shirt, she squatted down to loosen the laces on her boots and slipped them off one after the other.

She didn't want to get into the clean water in the state she was in just to watch it blacken and cloud with her filth, which she knew was the whole point of the bath. She stopped the water flow as it reached the top of tub and then retreated into her house for a bucket and some rags. She stripped off and stood next to the shimmering tub and carefully washed the bulk of the dirt from herself. She had to fill and empty the bucket several times as she attended to her hair but when she deemed herself clean enough she stepped into the sun warmed water and immersed herself in it up to her eyebrows, blowing little bubbles out through her nose.

She popped her face out of the water and sighed. It was luxury, bliss beyond her imagination to float in the cool water. She closed her eyes and bobbed on the surface like a cork, letting her hair fan out around her and letting her mind wander.

If he had gone to so much trouble to get this to her, it meant that she could expect another visit from him, but to what end? What did he want? She wracked her brain for the answer.

Would he be going through all of this trouble just for some tail? Did he think he could have her again? Was this payment for the first time? Was she some type of whore?

Her eyebrows drew together in an angry frown. Nope, not a whore! She would tell him exactly where to shove his noisy contraption. She sat up abruptly, her blissful reverie spoiled. She stood up the water plaining off of her body in sheets and she stepped out of the tub and glared at it spitefully. Her eyes fell on the orange and grey jumpsuit that lay discarded on the ground. She stooped and scrunched it in her fist, dragging it from the ground and then she stomped angrily around her house to the driveway, throwing it forcefully to the asphalt and glaring at it. She kicked a bit of dust over it just to punctuate her disdain for his gift.

She turned to stomp back to her house but again froze to the spot, her bare skin goose-dimpling and her blood all but freezing in her veins with fear.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" one of the three men who jumped casually down from rocky overhang by the garage sneered as he looked her up and down in chilling appreciation.

Ally covered herself and crouched slowly to the ground to grope behind her for the discarded Brotherhood jumpsuit, her fingers brushed the leathery fabric and she pulled it into her hand, drawing it in front of her naked and slightly damp body. She felt a ball of dread rising in her throat and she tried to swallow it down, clutching the clothing to her torso.

All these years, she had lived here alone and even before, when she had wandered with her chem head mother, she had managed to avoid contact with raiders. Now that she was naked and unarmed, they were walking up to her front door. Ally choked on her breath as she envisioned the many raider settlements that she had skirted in the past, with their dismembered trophies strung up outside their walls, rotting in the Commonwealth sun and permeating the air with their death and chaos. Ally hugged the jumpsuit to herself even tighter and took a anxious step backwards as the three men approached her, fanning out in an attempt to circle her.

"Have we found ourselves a little lost and lonely brotherhood bitch?" another of the men leered, wrapping his hand around a police baton he had hanging at his side.

"… Or have we found a waster slut who keeps the metal-heads cocks wet and gets paid for it?" The last quipped darkly. "With all the traffic in the skies recently they must visit you a lot, huh?" He sneered. "You must be real good for them to travel so far." He licked his lips as he examined her small, lean body.

Ally tried desperately to follow all three men with her eyes, but found that she couldn't as they spread out to surround her. Her heart pounded in her chest and felt her fear take hold, strangling her voice. She kept backing way from them, letting her bare feet find and follow the driveway down to the coastal road. She knew that there was nowhere to go. She was small and fast, but she was barefoot and no match for the fit looking men that faced her. She would have to run a long way before she encountered anything that could aid her. She was stymied by her own need for isolation.

The first raider grinned at her retreat. "Don't run, precious. We only want what you've been giving the boys in steel. If you make me chase you, it'll hurt my feelings. I'm just as pretty as any of them."

"I'd hate to disagree with you." A rich and compelling voice challenged from the side of Allys house.

The raiders turned as one in the direction of the voice and found an armed and angry Brotherhood Elder standing tensely in front of the stairs a fully loaded laser rifle levelled at the man who seemed to be the raiders 'leader'.

"Now, I suggest you do run, precious… if you make me chase you, it'll make me killing you all the more satisfying" Maxsons piercing blue eyes locked on the leader and his finger quivered on the trigger. The voice and eyes which sent shivers up Allys spine in desire now made her blood run cold with their barely suppressed fury.

Ally felt her fear dissipate in an instant and she stood up taller. "You fuckers are so royally screwed." She drawled to the raiders, sinking to the ground and holding her breath.

With a now clear line of sight on all three raiders, Elder Maxson open fired, sending sizzling blazes of light with pin point accuracy at each of his targets before any of them had a chance to even realise what was happening. The three raiders died in dismay as a single man with deeply ingrained military training took them out in a matter of seconds. Maxson stalked up to their still crumpled forms, his rifle still at the ready and crouched down by each of them in turn to determine their individual states of deadness, before he rounded on the little waif, still kneeling in the dust.

He knelt down in front of her and took hold of her shoulders in his massive gloved hands. "Are you alright?" He asked her gently, angling his head to try and catch her downcast eyes.

She nodded and looked up at him, he was a little surprised to see the tinge of anger in her large liquid eyes.

"In this particular instance, I am very happy to see you." She acknowledged, her voice strong again. "Though, I do find it vaguely irritating that you keep rocking up whenever it suits you recently." She put her hand on his knee and used it to lever herself to her feet. "They were here because of you." She stated accusingly. "I've never had a problem with raiders before, no one even knew I was here until you came along with your noisy-ass flying contraptions and your stupid water purifiers. Don't you know that the more you have, the more of a target you are out here?"

She tucked the brotherhood jumpsuit closely around her and stomped past the surprised Elder, her little bare feet sending puffs of dust into the air. He turned to follow her with his eyes, from his position on the ground his view was in perfect line with her tight bottom as it walked indignantly away. It was bare and had a little dimple in the left cheek.

'Why are you naked?" He asked with a slight smile of appreciation.

She ignored him and kept walking. She was almost back at the bathtub when he caught her by the arm.

"Why are you here?" She asked roughly, rounding on him.

"I … uh…" He looked around the yard as if trying to find something… anything and Ally suspected that he was not someone who usually stumbled over words. "I don't know your name." he concluded somewhat lamely.

Ally raised her eyebrows at the revelation… she never had actually introduced herself to him and he had told her his name for the first time while he had been inside of her… which had to be kinda weird.

"Allison Becket." She said softly, not sure if they should shake hands or not.

"Arthur Maxson." He replied awkwardly. Should they shake hands?

"Sooo…?" She said, urging him to answer her first question.

"Allison…" He started.

"Ally."

"Ally, I… uh… I have been thinking about what happened that night on the Prydwen." He started guardedly.

Ally was suddenly very conscious of the fact that she was still naked and was only clutching the brotherhood jumpsuit to her and not, in fact, wearing it. She felt the soft ocean breeze whisper past her bare bottom and her face heated up at the very mention of that night. She thought, or maybe hoped, it would remain a 'no talk' issue into perpetuity.

"I don't know what happened exactly, what factors came to fruition to eventuate… the way things eventuated but I am… not… Listen, I am not good at vocalising private thoughts." Maxson was floundering and Ally was not sure if she should be amused or horrified. "I have been nurtured and trained for leadership my entire life and personal issues are not considered a high priority so that part of my education has sorely lacked any type of focus…"

His normally arrogant and grizzled countenance looked endearingly sincere and Ally suddenly saw a young and vulnerable man in the place of the Brotherhood of Steel leader. A very charming, powerful, attractive…

She stepped closer to him and slid her arms around his neck, the jumpsuit flumped into the dust at her feet as she tugged his head down and pressed her lips against his, stopping his halting speech in its tracks.

Arthur Maxson had very quick reflexes, he had been fine tuned to find the perfect reaction to any sort of surprise attack. While this particular attack was not deemed hostile, it certainly was a surprise. The perfect reaction to a beautiful, young woman kissing you, was to kiss her back. Obviously.

Ally gasped against his lips as she felt the warm leather of his gloved fingers trail around her waist and clutch her to him, pressing her small, naked body against his fully clothed one… Armoured too, she thought absently. She groaned as she felt her feet leave the ground. He was so damned strong, he lifted her with ease to bring her up to his level, so he could reciprocate her kiss with as much enthusiasm as it was due, one of the leather clad hands levered itself under her butt for a more firm hold. She ran her fingers through his hair, mussing the regimented style for all she was worth.

And there it was again… that heat… the attraction… and the total lose of control and reason.

The two of them forgot about the three raider corpses in the front yard, they forgot everything except the need for skin on skin contact. Ally felt a little ahead of the game, being nude already, Arthur had a lot of catching up to do.

She clawed at his heavy coat, frustrated that he insisted on wearing the damned thing when it was obvious he would have to take it off around her eventually. He juggled her from arm to arm as he shook the coat from his shoulders one at a time. He refused to release his hold on her.

There was no bed out here, no convenient table top, just the warm, dusty ground and that would not do at all. As their lips and tongues wrestled frantically with each other, Arthur strode in the general direction of her house, her legs snaking around his waist as he moved. He stumbled blindly into the side of the cottage, she didn't seem to mind or even notice as her back slammed into the rough wooden exterior, in fact, the added stability to her position gave her the opportunity to unbuckle the flightsuit at Arthurs throat and peel the zipper down his torso, exposing tracts of pale flesh and hardened muscle, without the need to break their frenzied kiss. She slid her hands underneath the material and pushed the flightsuit off of his shoulders and dragging it down his arms and massive back.

Holding her in his arms was hindering his state of undress, he seemed to have forgotten that she had the ability to walk on her own and he still refused to let her go for a second. Instead, he leaned further into her, pressing her hard into the wall of her domicile and wedging his leg in between her thighs. As soon as he ascertained that she was balanced carefully against the wall, he let her go to yank the sleeves from his arms and the gloves from his hands and returned them quickly to holding her up and against him.

He tore his lips from hers only to attack her throat and shoulders with his mouth. He hoisted her even further from the ground and began to assault her breasts in the same vain, grazing his teeth across her nipples before enclosing them completely in his hot, wet mouth, lathing them thoroughly with his tongue. Ally leaned her head back against the wall of her house and moaned, beyond thought and overcome with sensation as he suckled on her tightly pebbled teats.

He revelled in the taste of her clean smooth skin with a silky sheen of salty perspiration from the hot Commonwealth sun and her steadily mounting desire. It was driving him wild and he was suddenly certain that the front door was way too far away, the mattress inside, further still. There was no way he'd make it.

He lowered her carefully off the wall and let her find her feet. He took the break in contact as an opportunity to properly rid himself of his flightsuit and boots, intending on sweeping her off her feet and into the sun warmed dust. She had other ideas.

He caught his breath when she sank to her knees as he kicked his boots away. She ran her light fingertips up the sides of his gorgeous thighs and let them curl around his narrow hips. She looked up at him with those wide doe eyes, her pupils so dilated with lust to the point that they seemed bottomless.

He froze as she leaned forwards and took his straining erection into her mouth, inexperienced as she may have been, she wasn't completely clueless. She gave the tip an experimental flick with her tongue and allowed her lips to engulf the satin smooth appendage, rejoicing in the loud groan that the action drew from his throat. Emboldened by the very positive response, she pressed on, taking in more and more of him and releasing his hip to caress and pump the parts she couldn't reach without gagging, with her eager hands.

Arthur slipped his fingers into her hair, tangling them in the blonde tresses and encouraging her with moans, trying desperately not to buck his hips into her... the urge was strong, too strong for him to succeed. He stopped her before he damaged her with his exuberance and pulled her away from him, joining her on the hot dusty ground.

He lay her down and settled himself at her side, capturing her lips with his, he began to explore her small, slim body with his wide, rough hands. He smoothed his way down her body, taking a brief stop at her breasts, kneading the cushioned flesh and tweaking the tips, growling as her heard her gasps of pleasure. His hand continued down over her firm abdomen, down over her mound, covered with soft, golden curls, and a tantalising dampness. He parted her soft folds with the tips of his fingers and dipped inside searching for her little nub that he knew would send her into a panting frenzy. He had loved hearing her mewling pants, loved seeing the way her back had arched towards him.

He was not disappointed. She nearly jumped out of her skin when he began to massage her most sensitive spot. She tore her lips from his and pressed herself up into his hand, her breath held and her eyes wide open in astonishment. He groaned at her response as she began to grind her sex against his seeking fingertips and began to nearly keen as the pressure in her core reached its apex. She shuddered out her first release and reached for him, bringing his mouth to hers again, she aggressively bit on his bottom lip and soothed it with her tongue, before biting again.

Arthur inserted a finger into her tight passage and began to prepare her for what was to come, pumping into her while using his thumb to continue his manipulation of her clitoris. Ally grasped at his arm digging her nails into his muscle as the pleasure became too much for her to bear and when his slid a second finger inside her, she came apart again.

"Fuck, Arthur," She gasped. "Oh fuck… now."

He took the hint and moved to cover her tiny body with his. He withdrew his fingers from her and brought them to his mouth, tasting her sweet juices with his tongue as he gazed into her dark eyes. She reached between them, taking hold of his thick shaft, guiding it to her opening. Arthur, with her recently virginal state still on his mind, eased into her slowly, hissing as the heavenly tight, wetness enveloped him.

He held himself in check, at least he tried to, but Ally was having none of it. She rocked her hips up taking all that he had and wrapping her legs around him to hold him to her.

It went a bit awry from there, Arthur took off the hand brake and ploughed into her, his thrusts hard and deep and she writhed under him. Their chorus of cries almost in harmony as he pounded her tiny, receptive form into the Commonwealth dust, building to a crescendo where Ally, disbelieving of the power of her own voice, screamed out her orgasm and Arthur driven to the point of madness shuddered out a tortured growl as he came deep inside of her, her unbelievably tight, hot walls milking him within an inch of his life.

He collapsed beside her, deftly avoiding crushing her with his large, heavy body. A cloud of dust spurred up by their activities began to settle on the panting bodies, sticking to their sweaty skin.

"You know," Ally huffed at the dust clinging to her, trying to control her breathing. "I was clean before you came along."

Arthur chuckled, his face nestled into the crook of her neck. "Hence, the purifier." He panted, waving tiredly in the general direction of the machine looming in the yard. He bought his hand down gently, rubbing it slowly over the surface of her sticky skin on her abdomen, before grasping her hip and pulling her closer to him, burying his face even further into her neck and peppering the area with soft kisses.

"I'm not letting you run away this time." He whispered, his grip on her hip tightening to assert the truth in those words.

"Where am I going to run to?… This is my house." She grumbled, running her fingers through his ebony hair.

He raised his eyes to meet hers, the creasing in his forehead deepening.

"We're going to talk this time." He said firmly resting his chin on her chest and locking in the intense blue stare, waiting for assent, which she gave with a quick nod of her head.

He rolled them over so that he was on his back in the dirt and she was resting with her head on his overly firm pectoral.

"I think that we have a certain chemistry." Arthur mused softly, stroking her hair back from her face with calloused but gentle fingers. "I would like to explore it, if you are amenable to the idea?"

Ally nestled her head into his chest and began to thoughtfully mouth the dark hair that sprinkled across it, her lips capturing the short strands and releasing them absently.

"I don't know if that's a good idea." She whispered. "I can't really see this going anywhere and you don't have to feel obligated to stick with me just because…" Her lips twisted into a playful smile that he could not see. "… because you robbed me of my purity."

Arthur sat up quickly his eyes wide. "I… I didn't, I wouldn't…" He looked down at her, where he had unceremoniously dumped her and saw the impish grin and heard the devilish chuckle. "I don't know what to say to that…?" He said dejectedly, she thought it was funny, though it still troubled him. "Do I apologise for taking…? I didn't know it was your first… I was your first."

"Geez, calm down, Arthur." She chuckled as his awkwardness, "I was there to, I know what happened… I was begging for it. I think I actually did beg for it, which is kind of embarrassing."

She sat up next to him and ran her deft fingers up his bicep to his tightly muscled shoulder. "All I am saying is… we have no common ground… what are we going to do? Go on a kind of pre war date to the drive-in? Not many moving picture shows around these days and it can take a while to clear the ghouls out of those places anyway."

"What if…" He placed his hand on her thigh and let it roam slowly upwards, "You have a lot of skills that would be beneficial to the Brotherhood. What if you were to join us?"

"Is this how you initiate all of your soldiers?" She asked quirking her eyebrow at him and then hissing as his fingertips brushed over her mound.

He ignored her quip. "You wouldn't have to worry about anything again. You wouldn't be hungry or dirty. You wouldn't have to worry about getting injured or sick, I have the best medical officer. You could be a scribe. I could keep you close."

She realised he was being serious and she frowned. "Why would you want me close?"

"Because I like you, goddammit." He snapped sudenly, coming up on his knees in front of her.

"Why?" She asked, a little in awe of his vehemence and gazing into those azure pools that he had the nerve to call eyes.

"Because…" He huffed. "because you're smart and fiery and irritating... resourceful and fearless," He raised one of his hands and palmed her cheek, rubbing his thumb along the dusting of freckles. "and you're beautiful."

She gulped. His eyes were intense and she lost herself in them.

She didn't know what she said. To this day she didn't know how she responded to his plea, but as she stood at his shoulder on the command deck of the Prydwyn, watching life in the Commonwealth proceed under the Brotherhood of Steels careful watch, she knew whatever it was, it was right.


	4. Chapter 4

**4\. The Couriers**

 **Short and sharp - Just an idea floating in my head. No violence, sex or language… Let's just call it an introduction to something I may expand on later…**

The Mojave Express was not exactly what it seemed. But that's not really important right now. What is important is that there were six couriers, there have always been six. It's not like it was some magical number, it's just the way it worked out. They, the couriers that is, were also not exactly as they seemed, they couldn't be when one considered what they could do.

Individually, they were near on indestructible – as demonstrated by Courier Six during the events of the Second Battle of Hoover Dam and the time leading up to it and by Courier Five, known as Ulysses. How he managed to live on was a marvel for the ages. Ulysses had gone rouge but he was still tied to the organisation, weather he liked to admit it or not. The exploits of Five and Six were well documented.

It's not to say that they were immortal… Courier Four, one Daniel Wayand was struck down in his prime while on the same job as Courier Six. His death was an anomaly but he was about to be replaced so no real harm was done.

That job had been… unusual… and though he lived on, Six was rendered amnesiac. So much so, that he even forgot his own name. It was worrying to the Mojave Express, but enough about that for now.

Courier Three, was a deceptively small young woman. She had a name, she chose not to use it. She travelled the roads outside of the Mojave, spending most of her time in California. People, ordinary people, were often surprised that the diminutive lady travelled alone, unmolested. Raiders, Ferals, Supermutants and the rest of the ferocious animals and beings that haunted the contemporary wasteland gave her a wide berth as she strode steely eyed on her path.

Courier Two, was an unassuming looking man. He went by the name of Ross Green. He was resourceful. He was also an unparalleled genius. He was the type of man who could flick through a book and then recite it back to you five years later word for word… he would even to special voices for each character if that was your thing. Give him access to a place like Big MT and after a day he would have that shit locked down. He could cure the whole wasteland of its ills… the problem though, was that he was totally apathetic.

And then there was Courier One… Yeah, about that one… He was still alive, they knew he was still alive but he had fallen off the grid. One, or as he was normally known, Morgan Bateman, was wild card, more so than any of the others. While he fulfilled his duties as a courier… most of the time… he was also unpredictable and not exactly stable. He tended to disappear for long periods without warning. The only people he would respond to in any kind of familiar, if not friendly light, were the other couriers and the old man, Johnson Nash.

Johnson Nash, the operator of the Mojave Express Depot in Primm was also not what he seemed. He exuded an air of down-home, country bumpkin. He was shacked up with his Mrs and living cushy in the Express office but he oversaw the operation. He sorted and handed out the jobs, assigning them to the most likely candidate. He had always been there, as long as anyone could remember. He knew what the Express was all about, though he never let on.

The Mojave Express was not the only courier agency in the wastes… but it was the first and it was the best, the others were merely shadows in comparison. They were full of _ordinary_ people, ordinary postal workers and some spies working for various factions. Little people leading little lives… There were none like the Mojave Express.

Now, there was a reason that the couriers were almost never seen in each others company… certainly never all together. Individually they were near on indestructible. All together, they were an Army.

All together, if inclined to do so, they could lay waste to any that came before them…

… So, when Courier Six strode into the saloon at Goodsprings, his best girl on his arm and his best friend at his back and saw a table filled with four chillingly familiar people and one he did not know but he could guess her identity, his heart froze in his chest…

All six couriers from the Mojave Express were in the same place at the same time and that did not bode well for anyone.

The Mojave Express was not what it seemed…


End file.
